


Age of Ultron

by BerylRoses



Series: Stumblin' In [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Awkward Flirting, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Minor canon divergence, POV Third Person, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:28:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29983566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BerylRoses/pseuds/BerylRoses
Summary: A little over a year ago, (Y/N) (Y/L/N)’s life was turned upside-down; she helped take down a decades-old terrorist organization, her first novel was published to critical and commercial success and she became pel-pals with Steve Rogers, the super-soldier of her dreams. But just as she was settling into her new routine, her career and love life would take several more unexpected twists and turns that eventually culminate in her being roped into helping stop yet another catastrophic world-ending event. Who would’ve thought that the life of a music-obsessed historical fiction author could be so crazy?
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader
Series: Stumblin' In [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2086656
Comments: 10
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

_Chapter One_  
_May 2015  
_ _New York City, New York_

As the mid-morning sun shone bright through the large window, (Y/N) closed her eyes and enjoyed its warmth on her face, daydreaming about sunbathing alone on a quiet beach with a refreshing drink in hand instead of sitting in an overly ornate New York City hotel room with a face-full of thick makeup.

“Um, can you please relax your eyebrows, Miss (Y/L/N)? I can’t fill them in when they’re scrunched together.”

(Y/N) winced and complied with the makeup artist’s request but kept her eyes shut. “Sorry.”

As she concentrated on keeping her face relaxed, the door of the hotel room opened and the overbearing scent of Chanel No. 5 instantly wafted in. “We have a big, big day ahead of us! The second trailer was released two hours ago and it already has more than three million views online, so everyone will practically be _begging_ for more info on the film during the Q & A!”

Troy, the makeup artist, declared that he was finished. (Y/N) blinked her eyes open to see Stephanie, her studio liaison, standing by the door with her gaze diligently trained on the cell phone in her hand, and she couldn’t ignore the swell of irritation she felt at the woman’s words. “That’s all well and fine, Stephanie, but I want to ensure that some of the focus today is on the _book_ , not just on the-”

“Of course, of course, whatever you say, Sweetie!”

“It’s actually ‘(Y/N)’-”

Stephanie continued on as if she hadn’t heard her. “So, at ten o’clock we’ll-oh, I _really_ need to take this call…” Without looking up from her screen, Stephanie flipped her unnaturally red hair over her shoulder and turned to leave the room. “Looking good today!”

The door swung shut behind her and (Y/N) suppressed her frustrated sigh before glancing over at the makeup artist, who was preoccupied with packing away his brushes. “Thank you, Troy, you’ve done a wonderful job as usual.”

Troy stared at her with a stunned expression on his face; he’d been her makeup artist for over a month now, yet he still looked surprised every time (Y/N) spoke kindly to him. “Y-you’re welcome, Miss (Y/L/N).” With a polite but nervous smile, he shoved the rest of his supplies into his case and quickly exited the room, leaving (Y/N) completely alone for the first time that day.

In the past year, (Y/N)’s life had been drastically flipped upside-down. Her novel, _For Queen and Country_ , had been published and became a quiet hit with readers. For the first couple of months, she attended signings at independent bookshops and met fans of her novel; it pleased her to know that her writing resonated with people and encouraged them to reexamine history. Before the book was published, though, she and the publishing company sold the novel’s film rights to a Hollywood studio, so as to bring more public awareness to the novel. It was a fairly common practice among up-and-coming authors so she didn’t think anything of it, foolishly believing that the studio would ask for her input on the script. Instead, they butchered the novel, writing a script that read more as a generic gender-bent James Bond action film instead of a retrospective on female espionage in the Cold War, and they made it nearly impossible for her to recognize her own creation. After pleading with them to consider how the novel’s fans would react to an inaccurate adaptation and even offering to rewrite the script for them, her emails were disregarded and she resolved to ignore the film altogether as she continued writing her second novel.

That is, until (Y/N) received a phone call from the studio a month ago begging her to help promote the film. It seemed that focus groups provided mixed-to-negative reviews of the film but enjoyed seeing videos of her talking at her book signings, so the studio decided that she’d be perfect to help convince her more loyal fans to see the film. She would’ve refused their offer if not for Abbie, her old friend and publisher Greg’s newborn daughter; she was a sickly baby and as a result, the family struggled to pay off their expensive medical bills. So after negotiating a price with the studio, (Y/N) signed a contract to help promote the film and began anonymously donating all the money to cover the Ashborn family’s bills.

The studio’s contract was quite clear: (Y/N) was legally obligated to do whatever the studio needed her to do to promote their film and due to the confidentiality clause, she was forbidden from talking to anyone about the contract. If the studio caught wind that she’d broken their contract in any way, then they’d pursue legal action against her but more importantly, they’d stop paying her for her services; so she swallowed her pride and did as she was told for the sake of little Abbie and the Ashborn family. When she sighed the contract, she naïvely thought she’d be able to handle everything that had been thrust onto her shoulders on her own, but…well, that hadn’t exactly been the case.

“Here goes nothing,” (Y/N) murmured to herself before turning to look at her reflection in the mirror. Thanks to Stephanie and the studio, she was completely unrecognizable; the thick makeup and expertly styled hair was designed to make her look older and more sophisticated, more akin to an actor or politician instead of a music-obsessed historical fiction novelist. The expensive blue pantsuit made her squirm in her seat, and she could already feel the brand-new black stilettoes pinching her toes. I’d kill for my normal clothes right now, she thought with a humorless smile, or even that old S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform I wore in D.C.…

Marvin Gaye and Kim Weston’s ‘It Takes Two’ startled her out of her silent ruminations. (Y/N) hurriedly reached for her cell phone and answered it, a true smile already spreading across her face because the ringtone signaled a call from one _very_ specific person in the world.

“ _Hello, is this the beautiful, talented, and world-renowned author (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?!_ ”

She stifled her laugh at Sam’s over-exaggerated question. “Hey there, Birdbrain! I take it you’re finally back in the States?”

“ _Yep, my plane just landed at La Guardia. We’ve decided to take a little break from tracking cold leads on our, ah, ‘missing person’s case,’ so I’m free until further notice! I was just calling to see if you wanted to hang out later today, since I know you’re still in the city for work._ ”

“I have a press thing at noon, but it should be over with around two or so.” (Y/N) found herself fidgeting with the sleeve of her jacket as she casually asked, “And is Steve…is he back too?”

She could practically hear the shit-eating grin on her best friend’s face as he replied, “ _As a matter of fact, he is. He’s got some Avenger things to clear up this afternoon, though, but don’t worry, Booksmart, you’ll probably be able to hang out with your hot long-distance boyfriend tomorrow or something._ ”

“You know, I think I liked it better when you were on a different continent; it was much harder for you to annoy me.” He laughed out loud at that. “And you should know by now that I still hate that nickname, Birdbrain.”

“ _Ah, you know you love me. But seriously, Steve’s missed you just as much as you’ve missed him, even with the whole email slash pen-pal thing you two’ve been doing. Maybe now, you both can both finally get off your asses and go out on a real date._ ”

“I swear to God, Sam-”

“ _Give me a call when your press thing’s over, okay? See you later, Booksmart!_ ”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes but smiled affectionately as she stared at her phone. “Still an asshat.” Her smile faltered, however, once she remembered the torture she’d be forced to endure before she could finally see her best friend…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Is it true that Harry Styles was gonna play George?”

“Are they’re going to be any bloopers on the Blu-Ray when it’s released?”

“Do you like the costumes that they made for Amelia?”

“Have you heard that Miley and Liam dating in real life?!”

Question after question about the film was thrown at (Y/N) and after answering each one with false cheerfulness and a scripted reply for well over an hour, she was on the verge of tears. You’re doing this for little Abbie, she reminded herself, taking a reassuring deep breath before the next question.

“Miss (Y/L/N), what inspired you to set your novel during the Cold War, and do you feel that your novel has explored any previously untapped information about those specific years?”

(Y/N) blinked in surprise and, with a genuine smile on her face, she answered, “Well, there’s been a lot of books and films about this era of history, but after attending a college lecture focused on women during the Cold War, I was inspired to write something about _their_ unique experiences. It’s common knowledge that the Cold War was the time of spies, but as far as I know, my book is only one of few works of fiction that deals specifically with female spies that operated during this time.” As she talked, she tried to make out the person who’d asked the question but the bright stage lights made it impossible for her to see into the crowd. She was confident it belonged to a man, though. “Thank you, those were some great questions!”

The rest of the Q & A was filled with the usual vapid questions about the film, but the two questions the mystery man had asked gave (Y/N) enough strength to finish the event. She was able to slip away undetected, since Stephanie was busy contacting the studio and everyone else was clamoring around the supporting actress who’d made a surprise appearance; careful not to be seen, she left the building through the back exit and began walking down the street to her hotel on the corner, already dreaming of a relaxing bath and the soothing playlist she’d play while unwinding.

“You mind if I get your autograph, Miss (Y/L/N)?”

(Y/N) stopped dead in her tracks at the sound of the familiar voice; it not only belonged to the man who’d asked her two favorite questions, but it was also the voice of the man she’d fought alongside in D.C. and had pined for during the past year. Spinning around, her heart leapt in her chest when her eyes landed on Steve Rogers, who was leaning against the brick building, his well-worn baseball cap pulled low over his brilliant blue eyes and his hands gripping a well-worn hardcover copy of _For Queen and Country._ He was smiling widely as he said, “It’s good to see you, (Y/N).”

“Steve!” Without a thought, (Y/N) rushed forward and wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace. She was pleased when she felt him return her hug and it was with great reluctance that she finally released him, a bright grin spreading across her face. “What’re you doing here? Sam told me you’d be busy all day, that lying little shit!”

“All my meetings ended early, so I thought I’d come by and surprise you.” Steve’s eyes raked across her form, and she suddenly remembered her ridiculous outfit and makeup. “You look great.”

“And you’re a liar, Steve Rogers; I look like a disgraced politician’s wife, but thank you for being kind.” Her comment made him laugh, and (Y/N)’s heart once again leapt at the sound. “Seriously though, I should change out of all this. My hotel’s right over there; you can come up with me, o-or you can wait in the lobby, whatever you want to do…”

They walked down the road to the hotel and Steve stayed in the lobby to call Sam while (Y/N) went up to her room to change. She gleefully swapped her professional clothing out for a comfortable blouse and skirt, and she sighed in relief when she slipped a pair of flats onto her aching feet; after scrubbing off the thick layers of makeup and applying her usual cosmetics, she quickly brushed out her styled hair and anxiously checked out her reflection in the hotel room’s bathroom. Not too shabby, she thought to herself with a nervous smile, taking note of the happy gleam in her eyes before smoothing down her hair and hurrying out of her hotel room. When the elevator stopped and the doors slid open, she took a deep breath and made her way over to where Steve was standing in the lobby.

“Is Sam on his way?” Steve nodded, and (Y/N) smirked to herself. “Good, ‘cause I can’t wait to punch that dumbass for lying to me.” She noticed that the super-soldier had been staring at her as she spoke, and she raised a curious brow. “What is it? Did I forget to take off the fake eyelashes or something?”

“No, no, it’s just that you look…you look a lot nicer than a disgraced politician’s wife.”

Steve’s unexpected words combined with the look he was giving her almost made (Y/N)’s knees weaken but before she could say or do anything, she felt a pair of familiar arms wrap themselves around her waist from behind.

“Guess who?”

“Hmm, it must be that little sneak I haven’t seen in forever, the one who blatantly _lied_ to me on the phone earlier, right?”

“Um, maybe?”

(Y/N) turned and threw her arms around her best friend, blinking away the prickling of tears that came to her eyes as he hugged her back. “I’ve missed you, Birdbrain.”

Sam chuckled, his arms squeezing around her before finally releasing her; she hadn’t realized just how much she’d missed seeing his wide, teasing grin until that moment. “Did you miss me more than Rogers?” He dodged the punch she’d aimed at his muscular arm with a loud laugh. “I’m kidding, Booksmart, just kidding! Geez, you can’t take a joke anymore?”

“Why don’t we go grab something to eat?” Steve interjected, shooting (Y/N) an amused smile as the three of them left the hotel. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that smile, she thought with a grin, holding her best friend’s hand tight and feeling happier than she had in a long, long time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Okay, Steve, let me get this straight,” (Y/N) took a bite of her french fry; they’d decided to pick up food and take advantage of the good weather by enjoy it in Central Park. “Your immediate, knee-jerk reaction to hearing someone swear is to scold them? Well _shitballs_ , there goes half my vocabulary!”

Sam nearly choked on his milkshake as he roared with laughter and Steve rolled his eyes, but his lips eventually curled into a reluctant smile. “Ha, ha, very funny, (Y/N); I was under a lot of pressure, okay? Besides, I grew up in Brooklyn, learned to cuss like a sailor before I even started school. Only Bucky-” Steve stopped himself midsentence, his blue eyes dimming with sadness at the mention of his missing best friend’s name. He shrugged and took another bite of his cheeseburger before continuing. “But yeah, I may be ninety-six but I sure as hell ain’t _old_.”

She didn’t want to cause him more sadness, but (Y/N) placed a comforting hand on his arm anyway. “You’ll find him soon, Steve, I know you will.” Steve gave her a grateful look, and (Y/N) quickly withdrew her hand before things could grow awkward. “But look on the bright side, you finally ended Hydra! I almost wish I’d been there to help you take them down for good.” Her fingers drifted to the old gunshot wound on her left thigh, where she could still make out the raised scar beneath the material of her skirt. Due to the moderate nerve damage that the bullet had caused, she couldn’t actually feel the movements of her fingers on the wound, an unsettling fact that she’d slowly but surely come to accept. “Are you Avengers planning on celebrating?”

“Yeah, Stark’s hosting a party Saturday night and you’re invited, Booksmart.” Sam flashed her a grin from across their makeshift picnic blanket. “A good thing, too, ‘cause I need my wing-woman to help me with the ladies.”

She chuckled uncomfortably. “It sounds like a private party, Sam, and I wouldn’t want to intrude…”

While promoting the upcoming film adaptation, (Y/N) had been required to attend a number of parties thrown by everyone from the director of the film to the studio executives. The parties had been loud, extravagant affairs with ample amounts of alcohol, drugs and paparazzi and needless to say, (Y/N) felt awkwardly out of place at every single one of them. The infamous Billionaire-Playboy Tony Stark’s parties can’t be much different, (Y/N) thought as she furrowed her brow.

Steve shook his head. “You wouldn’t be intruding, (Y/N). Everyone wants to meet you since I-well, since _we_ told them so much about you.”

(Y/N) still wasn’t convinced. “I don’t know, I-”

“Aw c’mon, (Y/L/N), you’re gonna make me hang out with all that testosterone by myself?”

Looking behind her, (Y/N)’s gaze immediately landed on the amused face of Natasha Romanoff. “Nat!” Jumping to her feet, she wrapped her arms around the spy in a fierce hug. “You’re back too?! What’s today, Give-(Y/N)-A-Goddamn-Heart-Attack-Day?”

Natasha was beaming when (Y/N) finally released her, holding her at arm’s length and nodding in approval. “You look _amazing_ , hot-shot! Really, those pantsuits they keep putting you in don’t do you justice. You three have a spare burger for a hungry spy?”

Over the next hour, the four of them talked and laughed as they enjoyed their food; (Y/N) listened in awe as they told her about the months spent tracking and taking down Hydra, often interjecting with questions or quips and in turn, they asked about her newfound fame and her writing. She’d been purposefully vague in her emails and phone calls to them about her turbulent life the past few months, originally so as not to burden them and then to comply with the terms of her studio contract; with all the acting she’d been doing lately, it wasn’t difficult to maintain her outwardly cheerful façade while she answered their questions with half-truths. Thankfully, the conversation shifted back to their success in Sokovia and soon after, Sam and Natasha began discussing Hydra leader Baron von Strucker’s prison transfer; that left Steve and (Y/N) a chance to finally talk alone.

“So, how ‘bout that autograph?” Steve grinned, holding out his worn-out copy of her book. When she didn’t immediately respond, he became a little sheepish and awkwardly rubbed at the back of his neck. “I’m sorry it’s so beat up, (Y/N), I took it with me while I was on missions and I think Thor might’ve even sat on it at one point-”

“No, no, it’s fine, I’m just…you actually read it?” He nodded, and (Y/N) nervously bit her lip. “Well…did you like it?”

Steve nodded again. “Yeah, I thought it was great! Really informative, too; I’ve done a lot reading to catch up on everything I’ve missed, and the things you wrote about in here? I haven’t found another novel that does the same. I would’ve told you all that in my emails, but I thought it might sound more genuine in person.”

(Y/N)’s face broke out into a wide grin. “Well, then, I’m glad you enjoyed it and it’ll be my pleasure to autograph your copy.” Accepting his book and pen, she gingerly opened the tattered cover and began writing on the title page. “What was your favorite part?”

“Oh, definitely the part where Amelia decides to defy direct orders and investigate the missing uranium rods herself. I could really see the author’s personality shining through there.”

She paused her writing and raised a challenging brow at his teasing. “And some might say it’s a part of the novel where the _reader_ can clearly identify with the main character.”

“Touché.”

They laughed, and (Y/N) signed her name beneath her message before closing the book and handing it back to Steve. “I’d better not see that pop up on Ebay later today, Rogers.” She playfully bumped his shoulder with her own, and her heart once again leapt in her chest as their eyes met.

“Wait, what’s Ebay?”


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two_

“Thanks for coming down to meet me, Nat.”

Natasha smiled as they stepped into the elevator together. “Ah, it’s no problem. Sam would’ve come down with me but he had to put on some more deodorant…he said something about it being a good luck charm…?”

Despite her nervousness, (Y/N) rolled her eyes and grinned. “Sam’s a very superstitious guy and he thinks that putting Old Spice Krakengard on at the very last minute will, and I quote, ‘tickle the ladies’ pheromones.’” She met the spy’s incredulous gaze and they both burst into laughter. “I’m serious! He also has a lucky black leather jacket and I’ll bet my Volkswagen Bug that he’s wearing it tonight.”

“Sam Wilson’s a truly fascinating guy, isn’t he?” Natasha’s chuckled subsided while the elevator continued its upward journey. “Anyways, I figured you could use a little company on the way up.”

As usual, the spy’s intuition had been correct. (Y/N) spent the entire day feeling an unpleasant weight in her stomach which only increased the moment she stepped foot in the Avengers Tower. Her anxiety was caused by a mixture of reasons that ultimately boiled down to attending what might possibly end up being another wild Hollywood-esque party and being in close proximity to the man she’d spent months harboring extremely strong feelings for. It would seem, however, that there was no hiding her true emotions from the woman standing beside her.

“You know, Stark’s parties aren’t as crazy as they used to be.” Natasha’s smile widened at (Y/N)’s questioning look. “It’s kind of a long story, so let’s just say that Tony Stark and I go _way_ back. Believe me, present-day Tony Stark’s nothing like the rich asshat the tabloids used to love reporting on. But c’mon, hot-shot, you’ve faced down brainwashed soldiers and Hydra thugs; a little party’s nothing to get nervous about.”

(Y/N) smoothed out the short skirt of her red cocktail dress for the fifth time in a row. “I know, I know, it’s just…”

“Rogers?” (Y/N) crossed her arms and refused to make eye contact with the spy beside her. “C’mon, (Y/N), I know you’ve had a thing for him since the moment you guys met. Everything’ll work out okay as long as you don’t overthink it, you’ll see.” The doors of the elevator slid open and they both stepped out. “I need to go check on some Avenger things so I’ll see you in a bit, okay?” (Y/N) nodded and Natasha gave her another reassuring smile before disappearing into the crowded room.

Brainwashed soldiers and Hydra thugs were a cakewalk compared to this, (Y/N) thought as she surveyed the vast room, but I guess it could always be worse. The interior of the Avengers Tower was, as she expected, very stunning and very modern, with metal staircases connecting two separate levels, large sofas and chairs that guests were occupying and large panes of glass displaying the skyline of New York City; on either sides of the room were two well-stocked bars and to her left was a pool table, where a group of elderly veterans were clustered. Although the room was filled with a cacophony of voices, she could still make out the faint strains of party songs and it made her inwardly giggle in amusement. Who knew that Iron Man was a fan of New Kids on the Block?

“You must be the famous (Y/N) (Y/L/N)!”

(Y/N) turned and smiled politely at the instantly-recognizable man before her. “And you’re the famous Tony Stark. Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Stark, it was very kind of you to extend one to me.”

Tony grinned good-naturedly. “Please, call me Tony; Mr. Stark was my old man. And it’s no big deal, we all wanted to see if you were real and not a figment of Capsicle’s imagination. From what he’s told us you’re a bit of a bad-ass for a writer, Jane Austen.”

“She is!” She glanced over to see Sam approach them, biting back a smirk when she spotted the lucky leather jacket he was wearing. “An impulsive, hot-headed bad-ass. It’s obvious why she and Cap get along so well, isn’t it?”

The billionaire chuckled alongside her best friend, and (Y/N) raised a judgmental brow at the pair. “ _I’m_ impulsive? This coming from the dumbass who once tried to race a super-soldier on a whim…” Grinning in embarrassment, Sam playfully nudged her arm with his and she giggled.

“Oooh, I love snarky ladies, you’d get along great with my girlfriend.” Tony gave her an approving wink before gesturing towards the bar. “Wilson mentioned you’re not much of a drinker, so we’ve got some great non-alcoholic options at the bar. C’mon, Ms. Austen, let’s get you a drink and find some other members of our little posse to introduce you to…”

With a virgin mint julep in hand, (Y/N) allowed Tony and Sam to introduce her to the rest of the Avengers. Bruce Banner was very polite as he shook her hand, and she could tell by his body language that he too was wary of parties. Colonel James Rhodes greeted her with thinly-veiled amusement, and she had a nasty feeling that he’d associated her with the film adaptation of her novel. Clint Barton had been in the middle of a phone call when Tony attempted to introduce them, but from their brief encounter (Y/N) thought he was nice. Her favorite Avenger of the evening, however, had to be Thor; the Asgardian god greeted her by pressing a chaste kiss to her knuckles and the way he spoke so fondly about Earth and Asgard had immediately endeared him to her. It definitely doesn’t have anything to do with that handsome face of his, she thought with amusement as she noticed several women and men shooting her envious glances while they talked.

“So, Writer (Y/L/N), you are the Captain’s betrothed?”

(Y/N), who’d just taken a sip of her drink, choked and began coughing. When she finally recovered, she was quick to dissuade the curious Asgardian. “No, no, we’re just friends! There’s no betrothing going on, believe me…so, um, what’s Dr. Foster like? I read in the paper that she’s in the running for the Nobel Prize in Astrophysics, she must be thrilled about that!”

After spending a while listening to Thor rave about Dr. Jane Foster and her groundbreaking research and then striking up a pleasant conversation with Maria Hill and a cluster of World War II veterans, (Y/N) headed over to the bar for a drink refill and was pleased to see Natasha mixing drinks behind the counter.

“Enjoying the party, (Y/N)?”

“Actually, yes. Your teammates are…” (Y/N) smiled as she struggled to find the appropriate word. “… _interesting_ , to say the least. Different from how I expected them all to be.”

Natasha smirked. “Yeah, they’re annoying as hell sometimes, but they’re the kind of people you want fighting by your side. There’s always room for another member, you know.”

Shaking her head, (Y/N) began twirling the straw through her fresh drink. “You’re hilarious, Nat, but I’m just a writer, remember? Besides, all that combined snark would only drive me bat-shit crazy, then I’d be forced to split off to form my own superhero team and there’s no way I could come up with a group name that sounds cooler than ‘The Avengers.’”

“You’ve got a point there, hot-shot.”

Natasha’s attention was soon drawn away by a bashful-looking Bruce and with a knowing smile, (Y/N) left the two of them alone to stroll back into the crowd. She was in the middle of scanning the room for her favorite super-soldier when she caught a snippet of Colonel Rhodes’ conversation with a small cluster of people.

“The new trailer for that movie dropped the other day, you see it yet? I’m telling you, if that’s her movie then I’d hate to read her book…”

As the group laughed, (Y/N)’s heart sank and she quickly hurried away in the opposite direction, struggling to regulate her breathing. During the Battle of the Triskellion, Brock Rumlow had punched her hard in her stomach and knocked the wind clean out of her lungs, and the sensation (Y/N) was now feeling was shockingly similar to that. She walked aimlessly, eventually finding herself in a second-floor office that overlooked the party below. Light from the party dimly illuminated the room, so she was able to faintly make out a cluttered desk and chair. Without a second thought, she took a few long strides and sat herself down into the chair, a lump beginning to form in her throat.

All (Y/N) ever wanted was to become a serious author, to write something that could truly resonate with others, but it was painfully clear to see that her dream would remain just that. The novel she’d poured her blood, sweat and tears into writing would forever be sullied by its terrible film adaptation and some people would always think of her as a sell-out for allowing it be made in the first place. The logical part of her knew that things would get better once her contract was up and she was free to speak her truth, but it was starting to feel like that day would never come.

I wish I brought my music with me, (Y/N) thought sadly, looking down at her pocket-less red cocktail dress and minuscule clutch purse; if there was anything in the world that could distract her from her thoughts for a little while, it was her beloved music.

“I thought I saw you come up here.” (Y/N)’s head whipped towards the doorway to see Steve standing there, his hands in his pockets and an easy-going smile on his face. He wore a flattering blue button-down dress shirt tucked into a pair of dark jeans and since the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, she had an unobstructed view of his impressively-muscular forearms and biceps. “This is my office, in case you were wondering.”

True enough, when she gave the desk before her a second glance, she immediately spotted framed sketches and family photos she recognized from visiting the Smithsonian’s Captain America exhibit so long ago. On the wall above the desk were several framed newspaper clippings, but what caught her eye was a clipping of _The New York Times_ best seller list with the title of her novel at the very top.

“If I’d known that, then I’d have done some more snooping around before you showed up.” (Y/N) covered her jumbled emotions with a teasing smile. “I was just getting a little air.” Standing up, she turned towards the window and watched the party below, feeling a pang of guilt when her eyes found the group of veterans clustered around Sam and Thor. “You know, I haven’t worked with the vets down at the VA lately, not since the press tour for that…for _my_ movie began. I’m glad that I was at least able to visit with these fellas.”

“So am I. They’re a great group of guys.” Steve walked across the room to stand beside her, giving her a sideways glance before looking down at the party. “You didn’t talk much about the press tour in your emails. Has it been going all right?”

It took all of (Y/N)’s willpower not to break down and tell him everything, the studio contract and her stubbornness be damned. Carefully choosing her next words, she replied, “It’s been a little overwhelming, if I’m being honest. Wearing six-inch stilettos and attending Hollywood parties wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I decided I wanted to write historical fiction novels, but my studio liaison says public interest in my novel takes a ten-percent bump with every film event I attend, so that’s…that’s good, I guess.”

They stood in silence for several long moments, until Steve turned away from the window to face her with a growing grin. “You know, I finally got around to listening to AB-AH like you suggested.”

His butchering of the iconic Swedish pop group’s name shocked (Y/N) out of her quiet reverie, and just as she was preparing to correct him with a fair amount righteous indignation, she caught sight of the mischievous look in his blue eyes and sighed in feigned exasperation. “You, Steven Grant Rogers, are a devious man.”

“Who, me?” He asked innocently and smiled when she raised a challenging brow. “Fine, you caught me. That was a pretty lame attempt at distracting you but I had to try somewhere, right?”

“I wouldn’t say it was _lame_. Devious, yes, but since I’m standing here arguing with you instead of staring off into the middle-distance, I’d say it worked.” (Y/N) reasoned, watching in amusement as the corners of Steve’s mouth curled into a triumphant smirk. “What else have you been listening to lately?”

Steve pulled out the MP3 she’d gifted him last year and switched it on before scrolling through his recent plays. “Um, ABBA, a little Donna Summer and some of the Bee Gees.”

(Y/N) bumped her shoulder playfully against his arm and grinned. “On a 70’s Disco kick, huh? May I?” With a nod and questioning look from Steve, she took the MP3 player from his hand and scrolled through his playlists before landing on the right song. “Okay, Mr. Devious, since you’re such a fan of the Disco hits let’s see some of your moves. This song is by-far the _cheesiest_ of Disco-era party songs so it’s perfect for this…” She hurried over to his desk as quick as her stilettos would let her and plugged the device into a set of speakers, turning back to Steve just as the beginning notes of the Bee Gee’s ‘How Deep is Your Love’ began to play throughout the room. Her grin only widened as he let out a nervous chuckle. “Not so confident now, are you? C’mon, Rogers, you experienced the era of swing music firsthand, I know you’ve got _some_ dance moves in you!”

“You’d think so, but nope. Women back then weren’t exactly busting down the door to dance with a guy they could step on, and the thought of asking one of them was…well, pretty terrifying. So, I told myself that I was just waiting for the right partner and left it at that.”

Although he finished his sentence with a smile and an offhand shrug, (Y/N) could tell that dancing was a sensitive subject for him. She’d seen the photographs of him before the SSR’s Super-Soldier Program and although she thought he looked perfectly ordinary, she knew that in an era dominated by a specific idea of masculinity he’d been deemed an outcast. Imagining someone as caring and kind as Steve never experiencing something as joyful as dancing broke her heart. Maybe he’s in need of a little distraction too, she thought before walking up to him and offering him her hand to take. “In that case, I’d be honored to give you your first dance lesson, Steve…but only if you want one.”

Hesitant blue eyes met hers and slowly softened, and Steve allowed her to take his hand and lead them to the center of the room. “This isn’t really a song that requires complicated dance moves, it’s mostly a lot of swaying to the beat. So, you put your hands here and then hold mine like this,” Arranging his hand to hold her waist, she clutched the other in hers and silently prayed he couldn’t hear the pounding of her heart. “Good. And then we sway.” She led as they began slowly swaying in a small circle. Try as she might, (Y/N) couldn’t ignore the large hand resting on the curve of her waist and the closeness of Steve’s face to hers, and before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “There’s flecks of green in your eyes.”

The eyes in question crinkled as he smiled. “And there’s a few spots of gold in yours, they catch the light.” They lapsed into a comfortable silence, continuing their slow rotation as the music continued. Staring into Steve’s eyes, (Y/N) silently relished in the security and hope they emitted, things she hadn’t felt in a long time, and she found herself carefully listening to the lyrics of the familiar song.

_“’Cause we’re living in a world of fools breaking us down, when they should all just let us be. We belong to you and me…”_

“I, um, I haven’t mentioned this before, (Y/N), but I really appreciated having you as a pen pal while I was away.” Steve broke eye contact with her to stare down at the floor. “Talking to people’s been…challenging, I guess, since I came out of the ice. They don’t see me, they only see _Captain America_ , the Star-Spangled-Man-With-A-Plan.” His gaze met hers once again and the sudden uncertainty in his expression took her by surprise. “But it’s not that way with you…it never has been, actually.”

(Y/N)’s breath hitched, and she was all-too aware of their closeness as Steve’s hand slowly moved from her waist to the small of her back. “And I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you, Steve. The _real_ you.” Her eyes flicked involuntarily down to his full lips before looking back up, and though it may have been a trick of the light, the super-soldier’s eyes were darkened with an intense emotion. In that moment, with his arms holding her close and the hammering of her heart thrumming in her chest as she lost herself in his eyes, (Y/N) knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she had fallen hard for Steve Rogers.

The booming opening strains of ‘Stayin’ Alive’ caused them both to jump and release one another, and (Y/N) hurried over to the MP3 player and hastily shut it off. When she turned back around, she saw Steve run a hand through his mussed hair before shoving both into his pockets and chuckling lightly. “Sorry ‘bout that, I guess I left it on shuffle by accident-”

“No problem, it’s not nearly as bad as what happened to me just after I moved in with Sam. I was up late writing and I had my music on in the background; all of the sudden, Tchaikovsky switched to Beyoncé and Sam shot out of bed like a cannon! Good thing he thought it was funny, because I was convinced I’d have to find a new place to live in the morning.” They both laughed, and (Y/N) crossed her arms behind her back so Steve wouldn’t see her trembling hands. “Speaking of Sam, we should probably go find him; I want to hear more about what you two’ve been up to…”

Standing beside the super-soldier as he and Sam played a game of pool, (Y/N) couldn’t help but fixate on their dance in his office; was she over-analyzing things, or had they been close to kissing? It was almost impossible to make sense of their interactions, especially now that they’d gone from sending vaguely flirtatious emails to dancing along to sappy ‘70’s love songs. Well, Connie Francis was right in that annoyingly-catchy song of hers, she inwardly grumbled as she downed the rest of her drink in one gulp, that stupid Cupid’s a mean little shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! Linked below is the Spotify playlist for this fanfiction, and it'll be updated every time I post a new chapter. Enjoy!  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7FFHx64wJ5Ab5hJ64Mbo7X?si=4774556973af4df5

**Author's Note:**

> I’m back! I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who read and commented on the first book of this series, you guys gave me the motivation to keep telling (Y/N) and Steve’s story :) A lot of what (Y/N)’s dealing with in this fic was inspired by Rick Riordan’s experience with Fox and their film adaptation of The Lightning Thief; he talks about it in a wonderful blog post on his website, and you should totally check it out!
> 
> I’ve also created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7FFHx64wJ5Ab5hJ64Mbo7X?si=4774556973af4df5


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